


By Any Means Necessary

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joanna's twin children cannot (or will not) keep away from each other, so the Lady of Casterly Rock hatches a plan to separate them while there's still time to avoid disaster.  Or so she hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Means Necessary

“It’s out of the question. Boys of thirteen go off to squire- perhaps twelve, if they’re particularly sharp. But ten...that’s absurd.”

“But our Jaime isn’t just any boy, my lord.”

Joanna watches Tywin’s reflection in her mirror as she runs the fine bristles of her brush through her hair, keeping a mental count of the strokes. She frowns at the snarls in her golden curls; she’s had little time for proper grooming of late. Tyrion’s begun teething, and he’s dreadfully fussy- Tywin would have her leave him to his nursemaids, but she’ll have none of that. The twins enjoyed the benefit of her attention as babies, and regardless of his appearance, her youngest son will receive the same care. 

Even barefoot in his breeches, his tunic mostly undone, Tywin cuts a formidable figure. There’s a hard set to his jaw, a storminess in his gold-green eyes. That would be enough to make most people shrink with fear, but Joanna only smiles and continues to brush her hair. 

“I’ve been watching him on the training fields. Only a child of ten, and he’s already better than most of the younger knights. He has a gift, and it would be terribly unfair to hold him back just because of his age. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Tywin’s expression shifts- it’s a very subtle change, but she can tell that her tactic is working. Tywin likes to be reminded that his children are remarkable, special, deserving of different standards and different rules. 

He moves directly behind her, his hand clenching over the back of her chair, and Joanna reaches back to gently stroke his knuckles. She knows better than to say anything more- she just waits, massaging Tywin's fingers with one hand and combing her curls with the other. Finally, her husband speaks:

"I'll send a raven to Crakehall. But I'll not command it, Joanna. If Ser Roland seems less than keen, I shan't push the boy on him."

"Of course not, my lord," Joanna replies. A secret smile teases at the corners of her lips; Crakehall has never been anything but a yeasaying sycophant. He'd never dream of refusing the chance to foster the heir to Casterly Rock, no matter how young Jaime might be. Her smile broadens as she places her brush down and turns her head to kiss Tywin's palm. His eyes twinkle when he scoops her from the chair to carry her to their bed- his long absence has stoked his desire, and Joanna gives herself over to his touch, her pleasure heightened by the relief that courses through her veins, the urgency of narrowly-averted disaster.

The next fortnight passes in a dervish of activity. All of Casterly Rock makes ready for the lordling's departure- packing and preparing and sending ravens to and fro. Tywin prolongs his stay in the Westerlands to see his son off, and Joanna oversees everything with a restless Tyrion constantly slung over her hip (he'll only stop weeping in her arms, and she can't bear to see him upset, the vulnerable runt of her litter). 

The evening before Jaime leaves, Joanna puts Tyrion to bed in the bassinet in her chambers and crosses the castle to inspect the trunks that the maidservants have prepared. As she rifles through the chests to count the pairs of smallclothes, a rustling in the doorway catches her attention.

Jaime stands in his nightshirt, curls mussed and feet bare, and the incredible distress in his eyes causes Joanna to abandon her task and cross to her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You should already be abed, sweetling. You’ve a big day tomorrow.”

“Mother...” Jaime looks down at his feet, his toes turning inward like a pigeon’s. “Are you sending me away because...” He swallows hard as a pink blush tinges his cheeks, “...because of what Cersei and I were playing? We told you we’re sorry, Mother...”

Joanna closes her eyes briefly. The anger seizes her stomach, just as it does each time she recalls that afternoon a fortnight past, when the sound of light whimpers and heavy breathing drew her toward her daughter’s chambers. 

She’d stood in the doorway, frozen with horror, as she beheld Cersei on the bed with her legs splayed open. And Jaime...Jaime lay on his stomach, kissing between his sister’s thighs again and again. 

Joanna had slammed the door into the wall until the twins leapt to a standing position. Jaime immediately began to worry his lower lip between his teeth, even as Cersei glared at her mother with defiance- but the Lady of the Rock said nothing to her children. Instead, she raged at Cersei’s attendants and Jaime’s valets- none of them had ever seen the softspoken, even-tempered Lady Joanna in such a state. She’d  _told_  them not to leave the twins alone together, she’d  _ordered_  a constant guard at their doors, how could they be so  _foolish_ , so  _careless_?

That evening, she’d held Tyrion on her knee and wept into his white-blond hair for over an hour before collecting herself and deciding how she’d present the idea of Jaime’s squiredom to Tywin.

She looks her eldest son in the eye now. He repeats his apology, “I’m sorry, Mother. You needn’t send me away. We’ll not do it again. We’re sorry.”

But when she searches his gaze, hoping to find a sign of true penitence, she sees nothing of the kind. 

_Words are wind, my love._

“Why, I thought you’d be excited to become a squire, duckling,” she says with a forced smile. “You’ll have other boys to play with, and you’ll learn to fight and joust...a little Lion of the Rock cannot stay home forever, hiding behind his mother’s skirts.” 

“But Cersei-” 

Joanna places two fingers on her son’s lips to silence him. “Cersei must learn to do without you, and you without her. Someday soon, you’ll both be grown. She’ll marry a lord and have her own household to run, and you’ll be a great knight in your father’s service. Then, one day, the Rock will belong to you and your family.” 

Jaime looks at her as if she’s taken a warhammer to his sandcastle. The pain in his eyes is so naked, and he just looks so small and forlorn here in the archway- a part of her wants to tell him what he so obviously wishes to hear...

Instead, she kisses his cheek and turns him around, giving a little nudge to his back. “Time to sleep, Jaime.”

He looks back at her as he trudges down the hall, and she reminds herself again and again- _it’s for the best, it’s the only way, I’m doing it for you, my little loves..._

Jaime does not cry in the morning, but Cersei does. She throws herself into her twin’s arms and clutches him tight, only releasing when Tywin puts his hand on her shoulder and pulls them apart. Joanna kisses her son and watches as he mounts his little white pony and trots away, leaving his childhood home behind. Tywin takes Joanna’s hand; he is pleased, she can tell, although his face remains impassive as ever. 

Cersei stands stock-still and watches as her brother’s golden head disappears below the slopes of the hills. When Joanna reaches out to stroke her daughter’s hair, the little girl whips her head around and stares into her mother’s eyes. And the sharp flint of rage that she sees nearly takes Joanna’s breath away. It’s a hard, brutal anger, far too intense for a child so young- she realizes with a squelch of nausea that it nearly resembles hate.

_It will pass_ , Joanna tells herself as she moves her hand away from Cersei and instead brings it up to stroke the unruly wisps on Tyrion’s head.  _She’ll understand one day. They both will understand one day._

It’s a necessary deception, and one that she will cling to in the days to come. But even after weeks pass and business at Casterly Rock returns to normal, Joanna still cannot bring herself to look Cersei in the eye...and she honestly wonders whether she ever will again. 


End file.
